


And So It Goes

by chaynik



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-11-22 15:29:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11383035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaynik/pseuds/chaynik
Summary: Some Modern AU drabbles; wherein Dettlaff and Regis live into modern times.Rated M, but that rating may change, we'll see.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just started these. I'm going to be doing them as a project for myself; they are wholly self indulgent. Feel free to send me some head canons or ideas, if you want. You can find me on twitter @forksprite or on tumblr @forksprite.tumblr.com 
> 
> Thanks!

             “Do you miss him at all?” Dettlaff asked, he leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. Having rid himself of his long overcoat many years ago, his shirt pulled tautly at his shoulders as he shifted. He drew up one leg to rest against the other, his khaki pants making a slight scratching noise as the fabric rubbed. He waited for a response from Regis, who sat comfortably across from him at the small, shaded, table. Had anyone dared to look closer, they’d notice that Regis cast no reflection in Dettlaff’s sunglasses.

            “Of course.” Regis gave a sad smile, “He was my friend, much as you are.” Regis stirred his coffee with a spoon absently, “Though, it is a very different type of friendship, I must say.” He chuckled to himself. Dettlaff nodded slowly.

            “I don’t see how you get so attached to humans.” Dettlaff said darkly. Regis snorted lightly as he laughed.

            “Attached to humans? As if you’re one to talk, Dettlaff.” He shook his head, smiling, his teeth only just showing, “Besides, Geralt wasn’t really a human. Well he was, but, not really.” Regis tilted his head this way and that, as if even he couldn’t really decide. Dettlaff let a small grin spread across his features. The slight breeze ruffled his hair out of place.

            “No, Geralt was a Witcher, so I suppose not a human after all.” Dettlaff sighed, “But nevertheless, you must miss him. I wonder what he’d say to…all this.” Dettlaff gestured by tilting his chin upwards, indicating the tall buildings, the roads, the cars, the sounds, the people constantly chattering, all the noise pouring in from every direction. The way it smelled all the time, sometimes good and sometimes bad. The way everything had changed so drastically. Everything was very different from how it had once been.

            “If he were dropped down into the middle of it, he’d probably have a mild stroke.” Regis laughed, taking a sip of his coffee. Dettlaff’s grin spread into a rare smile. Once he had wandered his way back to Toussaint and found Regis again, he’d found his life to be a bit easier, not so trying. When he’d returned, Geralt had long been gone and buried, his daughter having come into ownership of her father’s estate. Though she was hardly ever there, as Regis had pointed out. Soon it seemed as if she too was gone and then Geralt of Rivia began to pass out of all living memory.

            “I should probably go or I’m going to be late.” Regis stood up, his sharp movement suddenly pulling Dettlaff from his reverie. Regis’ chair scrapped the concrete as he moved it backwards. Dettlaff nodded silently. His arms still crossed across his chest. Regis gestured to him, grabbing his coffee cup, and began marching away up the street. Soon he disappeared into a thick crowd of tourists, on their way to the palace no doubt. Dettlaff sat in silence for some time, watching the people go by. He always found himself watching them; humans were an endless stream, after all. It had been a long time, but he’d learned to live with them instead of against them. It had been a struggle in the beginning but it was getting better. He’d met so many of them who were good and kind, some that weren’t, but, more often than not, he’d found them to be agreeable and pleasant. It had taken a long time for him to come to that conclusion.

            The wind that hit his face was warm; it was the beginning of summer. The trees leaves were opening again. Though he rarely noticed the seasons. They were simply background colors and cues for clothing changes. Still, he couldn’t help himself, after all, those cherry blossoms were beautiful.


	2. 3 a.m.

           Lying awake in bed, at night, alone, was still the worst feeling. It weighed on him, it was heavy and thick in his heart. He thought he’d have gotten used to it by now. But it never seemed to fade away. It was almost always there, always watching, just waiting to make its presence fully known. His mind was constantly wandering tonight. He could hear the tree branch outside tapping against the side of the house. It was constant, like the beating of a heart. He sighed, rolling over onto his back he ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes were open, staring blankly ahead of him at the white ceiling. If he listened very closely he could hear Regis’ breathing in the other room. There were still nights when he would reach over, expecting someone to be there, and they weren’t. He closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly at the thought. He hated how humans affected him. He hated how he cared so much, he would give anything to be numb, to be able to shut his mind off, if only for a little while. He shook his head.  

           He sat up, the sheets pooling around his hips, the band of his grey sweatpants just visible under the white sheets. A yawn escaped him. He reached down to the foot of the bed, looking for the shirt he’d taken off earlier. He pulled it on over his head and threw the blankets off. The floor was cold on his bare feet, but he didn’t mind. He padded out of his room quietly and down the hall. The light from the street lamp outside streamed in through the window. He didn’t need any lights, he could see perfectly well. If it wasn’t for Regis and his incessant urge to blend in, Dettlaff wouldn’t use any lights whatsoever. The wood floors under his feet creaked, the carpet which ran down the middle of the hall was warm and plush. It made the slightest noise as it gave under his feet. He reached Regi’s room and hesitated in front of the wood door, the silver doorknob allowing him to just make out his blurry, distorted reflection. He licked his upper lip absentmindedly and turned the knob, going inside.

            Regis was just a bump under the covers in his bed. He didn’t take up much room and had always slept crunched up in a ball. The only light in the room was the alarm clock on the nightstand. Regis’ breathing hadn’t changed, he was still fast asleep. Dettlaff leaned his knee down onto the mattress, hearing the springs squeak ever so slightly, the mattress giving under his weight. He crawled up the mattress and pulled the covers down, slipping himself under them. The sheets were cold and he moved his feet around several times to try and generate warmth. He pulled the covers up to his shoulder, his face snuggling down into the pillow. Regis’ breathing had changed, he could feel it more so then hear it. The room was deadly quiet. The darkness was all encompassing. Regis rolled over to face him, his eyes still shut, “What time is it?” He mumbled, burrowing his face down into his pillow.

             “3 am.” Dettlaff said as he rearranged himself onto his back. Regis drew in a breath. The silence swathed them both. Dettlaff realized then that he was simply laying there and staring up at Regis’ ceiling instead of his own. Nothing had really changed. Though, at least now he wasn’t _completely_ alone. Regis was watching Dettlaff with one eye closed. His grey hair sticking up at all angles.

             “Lonely?” Regis whispered, his voice low, as if this was something which were to remain unspoken. And in some ways, it was, after all Dettlaff had a habit of appearing in the middle of the night and Regis knew why. He understood. Dettlaff didn’t respond to his query though. Instead, he picked at a stray thread on the sheet. Regis opened his other eye, scooting closer, laying his head on the other man’s pillow. Neither of them said anything more. Dettlaff rested his head on Regis’ and closed his eyes. Soon Regis’ breathing changed once more; he was asleep. Dettlaff lay in the dark, eyes closed, listening to the silence. Distantly, he heard that tree branch scrapping against the house again and a small smile crawled across his features just as he drifted off.


	3. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of a small experiment

          “Its been a very long time, Dettlaff. Don’t you think, er, that you’ve gotten over it?” Regis grimaced at these words, casting his eyes downward into his coffee, hoping Dettlaff didn’t fling himself into a rage. The dark haired man across from him only sighed and shrugged. He had certainly mellowed out over the last several hundred years.

          “Yes, I’ve gotten over it, Regis.” He took a sip of his coffee, “Its still…uncomfortable though.” His mouth pulled itself into a thin straight line across his features.

          “Well in any case,” Regis continued, now looking up from his coffee worry-free, “I think it’ll be good for you, you know, to go out with someone who’s not me for a change.” He chuckled at his own little joke. Dettlaff gave a half-hearted grin and rolled his eyes. He knew Regis was right, but it was hard to admit that someone was right.

          “Isnt there anyone at work you think is…uh…particularly attractive in any way?” Regis asked as he leaned back in his chair, resting his coffee cup on his knee. Dettlaff shrugged.

          "Not really, no. Everyone’s either an intern or they’re all married.” He laughed, a low, dark sound.

          “There’s no one in that blasted law firm? No one at all?” Regis asked, his grey eyebrows shooting up as he spoke. Dettlaff shook his head, lacing his fingers around his coffee cup. He idly tapped his foot on the stone floor, the rubber of his shoe making a slight echo in the large room.

          “Well, no matter, I’m sure you’ll find someone to spend your evenings with.” Regis sighed. Dettlaff nodded, taking another sip of his drink. Outside the wind was blowing. Leaves were dancing in the parking lot, swirling into small orange, red, and yellow tornados. The trees, planted in the medians, bent slightly in the wind. People had on scarves and hats, but the wind tugged at those too. Dettlaff watched as one particularly heavy set man struggled with his scarf flying up and into his face every two steps that he took. Dettlaff allowed himself a devilish grin at this.

         “Yes, maybe I can ask the garbage collector woman out on a date.” Dettlaff took the last sip of his drink then, emptying the paper cup. Regis snorted into his.

         “If that’s what you really want then surely try.” Dettlaff was not amused. His eyes becoming little slits as he looked at Regis, who was having a hard time suppressing the smile on his face. Dettlaff got up to throw his cup away, his chair scrapped against the stone floor, ringing out in the room. Though it was so busy that no one took any notice. The line for the cashier was already at the door. Dettlaff sat back down, resting his elbow on the table, watching the wind blowing everyone around outside.

         “Even after her, even though I still think about her sometimes, I don’t miss her now. I used to, but not now.” Dettlaff said quietly, almost a whisper, but Regis could hear perfectly well and Regis understood perfectly. He nodded silently.

         “I know, my friend. I think finding someone else will help to seal that wound permanently.” He tapped the bottom of his cup against the table, the sharp sound rang out, but again, no one took any heed. Dettlaff’s vision was transfixed on the leaves outside, dancing in the parking lot. He simply hummed agreement to whatever Regis was talking about after that. He couldn’t pull himself away from those leaves, playthings of the wind.


	4. The Walk

           There were pumpkins on the doorsteps of houses as he walked past. Only two nights till Halloween now. He sighed to himself, tucking his hands down into his pockets. He went out of his way to step on crunchy leaves on his walk home; it was strangely soothing. The sun was almost completely set; the evening’s shadows were lengthening. Remotely, he could hear the sounds of children running and playing outside in the crisp fall air. His dark hair was ruffled by the wind; he tucked it back behind his ear, absentmindedly. He grunted at it after it wouldn’t stay put, running his fingers through it, trying to keep it down and not in his eyes. His shoes tapped lightly on the cobblestones as he walked. The path wound down and around the shops of the old city. Many of the buildings had lost their color over the years, they were settling into the land, many of them slightly crooked or leaning on their neighbor. Everyone said it had, ‘old world charm.’ Casting his glance around, he found himself remembering well over a couple hundred years in the past. When the streets were filled with people dressed in a manner unseen for years, speaking in different tones and inflections, it seemed that they had even looked totally different.

            A small smile ran across his features. It was hard not to be amazed at how human beings just kept going and going. Regis was all the time rambling on about humans and how amazing they are. Dettlaff chuckled to himself at the thought. He walked past what was the shopping district; now many of these buildings had been converted into homes.

           The streetlights were coming on in the dusk. The sun was fading behind the mountains as he walked along the cobblestone street. It gave way to the newer sidewalks after a while, leading into the newer, more modern section of the city: the part that had seemed to grow outwards and continue on in a sprawling mess for year and years. He missed being able to fly off wherever, being able to appear and disappear at will, but Regis had explained what a terrible idea that was now. He sighed to himself as he walked, his hands snuggled deeper into his pockets, lost in his thoughts.

           His way home was taking him past the library, which was a huge glass and steel building jutting out of the Earth at all kinds of angles. Dettlaff remembered when they erected it thirty or so odd years earlier. It was the wonder of the city, articles had been written about it in the paper, people had come to see it from all over, but now, after all this time, it was just the library. He walked up the steps, his shoes clacking on the evenly laid concrete. The lights from the library were low, only softly emanating to the outside world. The door made the softest _whoosh_ sound as he opened it. The temperature was warmer inside, the heat hitting him in the face as he walked in. The people sitting at tables and browsing shelves were quiet, some whispering to one another from the leather chairs in the corner. He noticed the large amount of students, faces down in books, papers and open laptops scattered everywhere on tables in front of them.

         From the satchel he had he produced a red leather bound book, hardbound and old. Some legal tome he’d had to use for a case. He had debated buying it online but didn’t want to have one more thing to cart around with him forever. He flipped it over in his hands, open the inside slightly to make sure he hadn’t left anything in it. He walked absently up to the front desk, looking through the pages, not paying any heed to his surroundings, only to hear a small sound, “May I help you, sir?” 


	5. The Library

        He glanced up from the book, his hair falling into his eyes momentarily. His eyes narrowed. He hadn’t seen this woman before. For being as old as he was, he didn’t like change.

        “Where’s the woman who usually works here?” He asked quietly, closing the book as he looked up.

        “I have no idea, I usually don’t work down here.” She shrugged, holding out her hand as she gestured to the book he was holding, “Return or renew?” He felt his brow furrow at her question, his grip on the book remained.

        “I’d like to…return it.” He hesitated as he handed the book back over the marble counter top, “What do you mean you, ‘don’t usually work down here’?” She took the book from him, opening the cover, and stamping it. She didn’t look up at him, she flipped through the pages momentarily, lingering on the front cover page.

        “I’m an archivist. I work upstairs. They were short staffed down here today.” She continued to gaze at the front cover page, never looking up at him, “This book is very old. It has no business being down here in circulation.” She said to herself, her voice low, almost a whisper.

        “An archivist? What do you archive?” He found himself asking, his hands retreating to his pockets. He didn’t know why he wanted to know. He didn’t know why he suddenly cared at all. A voice in his head told him not to worry about it, to leave, but he was curious now. The woman in front of him sighed to herself, closing the book, and tucking it under her arm.

        “I archive maps, mostly of Beauclair and Toussaint, legal documents, newspaper clippings, basically preserve some history of the country.” She nodded as she spoke, her mouth a straight line, her hands retreating to the pockets of her black jeans. Dettlaff nodded, more to himself then to her.

        “How old is that book, by the way? You said it shouldn’t be in circulation. Just how old is _too_ old?” He gave her a crooked grin, the left side of his mouth curling into a smile. He leaned on the marble counter top as she pulled the book back out from under her arm, flipping to the cover page again.

        “About a hundred…” she tilted her head left to right as she thought, “and fifteen years old, I guess? Math isn’t my strong suit though.” She laughed, her cheeks turning just the slightest hint of pink. Dettlaff hummed, nodding his head slowly.

       “That is very old. How do you determine what’s too old?” He asked.

       “Well if it’s over fifty years old, it’s vintage.” She spoke very matter-of-factly, as she tucked the book back up under arm, her hands moving as she spoke, “If it’s over a hundred years old, then it’s an antique. So that’s why I’m taking this one upstairs. I don’t want something to happen to it.” She patted it with her right hand, as if she were comforting it. Dettlaff nodded, as though he were agreeing. A moment of silence descended on them.

        “Is there anything else you need while I’m here?” She asked, breaking the small pocket of silence. Dettlaff blinked, as though he’d forgotten why he’d gone into the library in the first place.

        “Oh, yes, actually, can you pull some property parcel ID maps for me?” He stood up and rifled through his bag for a moment. Pushing notes and other pads of paper out of the way, finally digging up a crinkled up, neon lime colored post-it note from the bottom, “Let me know if you can’t read my hand writing.” He handed her the piece of paper, she squinted at it.

        “Yeah I can read it.” She smiled to herself, “Give me a minute and I’ll grab them for you, I have to make copies, I can’t give you the actual parcel ID map.” She pushed the piece of paper into her pocket as she spoke, looking up at him through blonde hair.

        “That’s fine, I’ll wait here. Will it cost anything?” He asked. She shook her head.

        “Nah, I’ll make it upstairs. It’ll be free. I’ll be back.” With that she turned on her heel and walked back to a closed door, producing a key card, she slipped in quietly and was gone. Dettlaff found himself waiting for several minutes, he drummed his fingers on the counter. _This is taking entirely too long_ , he thought, as he reprimanded himself for chattering needlessly. The door in the back creaked open and the woman reappeared with two rolled up pieces of paper, kept secured with rubber bands. The book he’d brought back was no longer with her.

        “I made copies of these two,” she laid the post-it note he’d given her down onto the counter top, pointing to the top two parcel ID numbers, “the third one is not available. If you leave your email I can let you know when it’ll be here.” Dettlaff’s eyes narrowed.

        “I thought these maps didn’t leave the building?” He took the one rolled up map from her hands, taking the rubber band off, and opening it slightly. She tucked a chunk of stray hair from her braid behind her ear.

        “Yeah, they usually don’t, but this one was requested by a historical committee. I don’t know why, there was just a big note in its file. Sorry about that.” She shrugged and fidgeted with the zipper to her sweater, her eyes skittered around the large expanse of library for a moment. Dettlaff nodded in silence as he put the rubber band back on the one rolled up map.

        “Well if you can let me know when it’s back, that’d be very helpful.” He laid the rolled up map down onto the counter top. She handed him a piece of paper.

        “Just write down your email address and your name and the parcel ID number. When it’s back I’ll send you an email and let you know, so you can come in and pick it up.” Dettlaff wrote down the information on the post-it note and handed it back to her. She folded it up and put it into the back pocket of her jeans.

        “Great. Well, I hope these will suffice, for now.” She gestured to the two maps she’d already made copies of. Dettlaff nodded.

        “Yes, they will. Thank you for your help,” he paused, “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

        “Julia.” She said as she reached up and grabbed the tail of her braid, which was slung over her shoulder. Her other hand safely tucked away in her pocket.

        “Very good, well, thank you very much Julia, for all your help.” He said quietly as he gathered the two rolled up maps and tucked them under his left arm, “Have a good night.”

        “You too.” She said quickly, as he turned to leave, disappearing out the glass double doors and into the night. She sat down on one of the stools in front of the computer, she wasn’t doing anything, just appearing busy.

        “Were you making copies?” One of her co-workers came out of the back, her keys jingled as she shut the door behind her. Julia turned around.

        “Oh yeah, sorry about that. Did the copier not shut off again?” Julia asked. 

        “Yeah, I just unplugged it and it reset itself. What did they want copied?” The other woman folded her arms across her chest as she spoke. Julia stood up from the stool she was seated on, taking out the post-it note that she’d kept, she handed it to her co-worker, who stared at it for a minute.

        “Wow, this one at the bottom isn’t even here anymore.” She said loudly, her eyebrows raising in amazement. Julia blinked.

        “What do you mean? The note in the file said it was with a historical committee.” She stared, her mouth slightly agape, now feeling very stupid.

        “Yeah, it _was_. Someone wanted it a couple of years ago, some developers were going to tear down that old vineyard and put houses there, uhh what the hell was the name of it. It was in the news for weeks, uhh... _Corvo_ something or other.” She closed her eyes, as though trying to envision the property itself, finally she shook her head, “I can’t remember. _Anyway_ , they were going to tear it down and put houses but someone in the area stopped them. Petitioned for it to be renovated and turned into a historical site. But that was years ago and I don’t remember the map for its parcel ID ever being returned.” She handed Julia the post-it note and shrugged half-heartedly.

       “Urgh, I’ll email him now.” Julia said, folding the paper back up and putting it into her pocket.

       “Well, let’s dig around tomorrow, we’ll see if we can’t find at least who the map _went to_ , then maybe we can request it back. Maybe it got lost in the system or something.” She waved her hand absently as she walked past Julia, making for a large pile of unsorted returned books. They were stacked so high it looked unstable. 

       “Good idea,” Julia sighed, sitting back down on the stool in front of the computer. She scrolled through the list of late books and wondered how many fines there were on the screen in front of her. Name after name rolled by, fee after unpaid fee flashed across the screen. She could hear the pages of books being turned, the keys of laptops clicking, and people speaking to one another in hushed whispers. She found her mind drifting to the blue eyes of that man from earlier. She bit her bottom lip, shaking herself from her reverie.

 _No, stop that_ , she told herself and went back to scrolling through fines.


	6. Reasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super short. I promise there will be a longer one later on.

      “You’ve been very quiet today.” Regis said, not bothering to look up from his newspaper as he spoke. Dettlaff grunted and continued to squint at his computer screen. The morning sunlight streamed in through the window, painting the kitchen in a bright shining light. The only sounds were the ruffling of Regis’ newspaper and Dettlaff’s persistent clacking on the keyboard. The tree in the yard swayed with the wind for a moment, a car passed by, ruffling a small pile of leaves that had been idle by the road.

      “I have to go back to the library.” Dettlaff said, his hand obscuring his mouth slightly as he spoke, muffling his voice. Regis didn’t look up at him as he spoke.

      “Why?” He turned the page of his newspaper.

      “I have to go back and get that parcel ID map. The woman at the desk never e-mailed me back. I think she forgot.” He sighed.

      “Ahh,” Regis remarked, “You could always call, you know.” His eyes flicked over the edge of his newspaper and landed squarely on Dettlaff. He didn’t look up, he could feel Regis staring at him, but his eyes remained fixed on his computer screen.

      “Yeah, I suppose I could.” He said finally, resting his chin on his hand, idly clicking on his computer.

      “Yes, you suppose you could but you don’t want to. Curious.” Regis shook out his newspaper again and cleared his throat. His eyes back on what he was reading. A small, mischievous smile on his features.

      “What are you getting at, Regis?” Dettlaff muttered, his fingers flying over his keyboard.

      “There must be a reason for you to go all the way back over there. Especially since you could just call and check on the status.” He folded up his newspaper carefully, laying it on the table and shrugging, “I’m just saying.” The smile on his face widened as he picke dup his coffee cup and walked over to the kitchen sink. Dettlaff’s eyes locked onto Regis’ back as he rinsed his cup out, humming as he did so. Dettlaff drummed his fingers on the table idly, his tongue running over his teeth. Regis was right, as usual, he did have a reason.


End file.
